Completed [Fighters Pit] Kisetukai, The Power Magnet

[Kaie]

]

Kaie

The Myrian woman was taken aback, watching the not-so-fatal dance between the two friendly combatants. Their skill levels were clearly varied, but that would be expected between a trainer and a student. Besides, she just watched him humble a cocky little squire so proud of his association with the Syliras Knights. It wasn't much of a surprise to her of course. Kaie would expect nothing less from her people. His body was built well for the world he was attacking head on, the barbarian lands. Well equipped with well polished moves anyone could see in the way he battled here. He was a good teacher, accompanying each successful strike with advice. It seemed like with every swing of a sword he was enlightening his student. The brunette was sure he was a soldier at one point, but had he been a mentor in the training yards too? If he wasn't, he sure as hell should've been. Oddly enough, as enthusiastic and relieved as she was to see another Myran, she retained a level of patience. Perhaps it was out of her immediate veneration for the marked man. Maybe it was her eagerness to see more of his skill. For a girl so wrapped up in the hands on violence, she enjoyed spectating a good fight. So many times she visited the training yard as a little kid, just to watch some well fought brawls. The blonde battled well for a barbarian. Even got a few nice strikes in. A few areas did need to be buffed out, but that went the same for everyone in Kaie's eyes. The constant necessity to hone one's skills. There was always room for improvement no matter how proud one was. Nonetheless, the Myrian would struggle if she attempted to take on the tough blonde who challenged the colored human in the first place. Gutsy. Something Kaie respected. Gradually, their session ended but she felt pretty sure the woman would agree it was time well spent. Honestly, it wasn't everyday one received lessons in battle from a "bloodthirsty savage" was it? Hearing Myri spoken of brought a sort of warmth over her just then. It was a sensation difficult to describe. Not quite calm, it surely lit a brand new fire in her, but it was more...Righteous. Proud even. Like she was reliving her eternal vows when she drank of the ancestors' blood. It was unmatched really. You'd think her ties would've died down after so much time separated from that world. "Talk or train, mistress? Or both?" Bold, brown eyes watched him approach. Bearing his wounds without drawing any attention to them. Definitely a warrior. His respectful tone surprised her in a silly sort of way. Her long division had made her deyhan somehow. Like she had become unworthy. So determined she had been to keep the barbarian dystopia from softening her, yet she hadn't even the funds to receive any training. Not that she believed the humans had superior tactics to her people. After all, Myri was the goddess of victory. Not them. Their god of peace had been slain. Destiny had made an example of the impossibility of a world of pacifism. Another lesson she learned by observing. Regardless, it took her a heartbeat or two to formulate a proper response. "You were petching good out there. The Goddess Queen has blessed you with more victories. You must be fatigued from your battles. Learning from you would be a great honor, but also don't want to strain you. Perhaps we could talk if that was more to your liking unless you suggest otherwise." She said in their own tongue with a tone that conveyed the same level of respect. Kaie didn't really care much for the gender division. Her eyes saw more than their culture had presented her with on rare occasions. This was one of them. Her arms unfolded to hand naturally at her sides. Her focus was on her fellow Myrian solely now giving him her undivided attention. Naturally she couldn't help but notice the angry marks across his skin, but battle scars were marks of pride. Symbols of victory in some cases even. If she were to mention them at all it would be in some sort of compliment. The Myrian woman also had a burning desire, an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but she reeled herself back. Turned down the flames along with her ambitions. If the man was tired she'd sacrifice her own head at the foot of the black throne rather than press him. Besides, she was still starstruck she encountered one of her own in the first place. For now, she'd let the older, stronger, and more experienced of her brethren run the show.

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[Razkar]

Razkar felt the clashing urges to both stand abashed and swell with pride as a female of his race complimented his prowess. Such a thing was not easily given in Taloba; males who distinguished themselves only did so compared to the other, ruling gender of Falyndar... and females were simply better.

Tis all the will of Myri, Razkar thought to himself, even as he knew that the female domination of his race began long before the Goddess-Queen was born.

But he shook his head and turned it from theology. Her words had wisdom and consideration to them, and now she mentioned them, Razkar did feel the renewed throbbing and stinging about his body. The gashes on his shoulders were even more ragged than before after Sigrun had hammered them. The slash on his chest was shallow but ached... not to mention the rest of the bruises on him.

But Razkar still had a plan. He had shown his skill with skin and steel. There might be others watching, and the day was but yet young.

So don't waste it. Get patched up and get back in there.

"I thank you for your concern, female, and I think you're right," he said, relishing the chance to be eloquent in his native tongue once again, "How about a compromise? I'll get these taken care of and we'll talk about what a pair of Myri's Children are doing in the barbarian bastion of Syliras, shall we? After that, we can see what these wasted lands have taught your fists..."

A brief chuckle as the two Myrians walked over the the benches clustered around a trough of water. Cups and towels sat next to it, the closest the Fighter's Pit probably had to a bathing room. Razkar would take whatever he could get right now. He sat on the nearest one, his harness clunking next to him, and grabbed the nearest towel, soaking it in cold water.

"I see a light in your eyes, female," he said with a wry smile, looking up at those piercing brown orbs as he started to wash his cuts, wincing slightly, "My Ayatah is the same. A big, bursting questions about the world that are refilled with every dawn. Have you answered any of them, living with these barbarians? One moment..."

She watched as the male walked to his horse, retrieved his healing kit and then returned. He talked as he laid out the needle and thread for his stitching, water sliding off bronzed, inked skin and around faded scars.

"I wonder how these barbarians like hearing the tongue of our people spoken in their shining city," Razkar said with a mischievous wink, biting off a length of thread, "May I ask whom I am addressing? Forgive my manners; too long from the jungle, I suppose..."

The male gritted his teeth as the needle bit into his skin above the first gash on his shoulder. He drew the thread through it, glistening with blood and cleansing water... right to it's edge... then prepared to poke it through the other side of his torn skin.

Another advantage, perhaps, he thought pragmatically, aware of the eyes on him as he worked, knowing the savage can fight and heal himself... should you hire him, of course.

[Kisetukai]

How long had Kise be on the floor? It didn't matter, nothing mattered right now, nothing except getting out of here and ending his life. Well it wasn't really that serious but for him it was, he lost his will for everything, it was his first lost to someone who wasn't a knight. It felt cold, cruel, and overall wrong. He stayed on the floor until he saw footsteps, and the seemingly average sized Razkar seemed a bit more giant and intimidating. Crouching just in front of the boy laid on the ground, he gripped his gaunlet and brought him up, it felt odd. Although this man had beat him up moments ago, he had the audacity to help him up? Or was it the respect? Was the barbarian known as Razkar actually a caring soul, or did he just pity the kid. It was all a mystery.

As Kise flew up, Razkar assessed the damages and began to talk to him, telling him that somehow Kise was ok. And for a moment there was a smile on his face, Razkar actually smiled and it wasn't a blood thirsty smile like before. He showed Kise that honesty could be found everywhere, showman could be found in anyone, and respect was floating in the air. Although the crowd hated him, possibly even Sigrun hated his guts, he knew that he fought hard. "Ye...Yeah." After several breaths and wobbles, he was able to be excused by Razkar, as the myrian turned and went to collect his winnings.

Kise had put on a front, he couldn't truly stand on his own, and was still a bit devastated. Falling down back to his bottom, he pushed his way up and leaned against the wall, the cracks up above his head. He was sitting but couldn't hold his own, if it wasn't for the wall he would've been forced to lay down. Sitting against the wall, he looked around a bit, analyzing the situation. The brute moving over to fight Sigrun, or whatever they were planning on doing with those crappy weapons... Moving on into the future.

He looked around sitting and watching the area, Sigrun and Razkar seemed to fly by, their little dance not meaning much to the boy. "Shin... Get me out of here." He mumbled, looking down at the ground.

"As you wish brother... I'm here to serve." Shin said quickly, his sly voice sounding as it he was going to be done but with added effects.

Kisetukai's eyes closed, quickly flashing as a new persona, 'entered' the body. "Well... Better get the hell out of here." K said softly, rising to his feet with an overhead push off the wall, a bunch of cracks and pops showing his body was done for. A sharp whistle cut through the air, signaling his horse to come over, as it slowly trotted and cut the distance between them. He turned to see Razkar and Sigrun finishing, and now some other tan girl in the area. "I've had enough commoners for one day..." K said with a chuckle, he was a sore loser, but he could definitely enjoy a good laugh more. Falling over, he gripped his horse tight as he leaned on it, the horse saddle holding him up. He leaned and rubbed the horse's mane, letting go and stumbling to the wall, slamming his back and sliding down. Sitting against the wall again, he sat down softly, enjoying his alone time.

"Mom... I guess all that training was for nothing. I let someone come into our home, our land, and disgrace me..." K said with a soft mumble, a chuckle at the thought.

"Yeah, mom would definitely be pissed bro... We both lossed." Kise added in, also chuckling with his voice shockingly.

"Let's stop talking about mom... Before that monster comes back." K added with a shiver, his left leg fully extended as his right slid and bent up. He rested his right arm on his right knee, leaning a bit to the left, placing his gaunlets besides his left leg. Reaching into his left front pocket, he pulled a piece of hard honey candy out, pooping it into his mouth quickly. "Gods this pain... I need to go burn some or I'm gonna be feeling this all night." K said with his final sigh, looking on the floor with an stern look, his face appeared angry though.

This is unacceptable... But for now I'll be fine.

[Kaie]

Kaie

The female eyed the highly decorated man of her race as if casually appraising him. There was something more about the encounter itself that really caught her attention. Sure, finding another of Myri's children was a blessing in itself, but something was off. Maybe familiar would be a better word for it. No way had he come so far to inferior lands for a couple sporting spars. In fact, Kaie had a feeling no Myrian who came to Syliras would do so for their own pleasure. Would they? She couldn't imagine why. Unless of course this man was here on the same sorts of business her family had become involved in. It seemed likely given the evidence. As much as anyone would love to put a few barbarians below them on the battlefield, kicking the shyke out of one and walking away seemed common. Not too different from a school yard fight just to prove a point. Yet he was far more open minded. Staying for more and patching himself up to take more abuse. He was gambling. More importantly, he was winning. The fearsome warrior was showcasing his skills for prospective clients. Looking for mercenary work like he father once had perhaps? "I thank you for your concern, female, and I think you're right. How about a compromise? I'll get these taken care of and we'll talk about what a pair of Myri's Children are doing in the barbarian bastion of Syliras, shall we? After that, we can see what these wasted lands have taught your fists..." "Sounds like an idea. I do hope these foreign territories haven't softened me into a sha'lokk." Kaie responded with a light laugh that contrasted the hard exterior she displayed while observing the battles. Looser and relaxed. Her tone however, conveyed a bit of tension at the mention of conformity to barbarian fighting style. Sitting beside him at the trough, she admired the four legged beast he traveled with. Had he acquired it through Cyphrus? She might've asked if the warrior hadn't spoken again. "I see a light in your eyes, female. My Ayatah is the same. A big, bursting questions about the world that are refilled with every dawn. Have you answered any of them, living with these barbarians? One moment..." His smile was natural to her eyes though it might've been a terrifying sight to those who saw only the savage. When he brought attention to her own bold pools of brown she had to back pedal in her mind. His observation had taken her off guard in a good way. In her moment of humility they almost seemed to burn brighter when mentioned. And what about his Ayatah? One had to assume it was his mate. Kaie wondered absently what the mysterious woman was like. What it was that preyed on her mind the way violence prowled the depths of hers ceaselessly. "Your woman. She enjoys the study of combat as well then?" The bronzed female said with renewed interest at the new topic. Intelligent sights then followed him curiously as he retrieved medical supplies from his steed. With water glistening on his tanned skin she could see his present scars. There were quite a few and it humbled her. Clearly he had survived plenty of fights. He had brought great pride to the Goddess-Queen. Only then did it occur to her that he could very well be the image she conjured for herself as a kid. He had what she always envied. The glory and the skill. The attention of Myri. Men like these were the pride of their people despite the gender division. Few could speak out against ones who worked so hard to rise. Especially if they succeeded. "I wonder how these barbarians like hearing the tongue of our people spoken in their shining city." Kaie tossed her head back gently and laughed at the thought. Her brown hair cascaded down her back with the action. The knights of Syliras had such a rigid culture of human superiority it was to a fault. It was drilled into their minds and clear in their written law. For the craziest reason, the Myrian woman really enjoyed the idea of their irritation at some outsiders' simple conversation. "Mmm, maybe we should speak loud enough to draw their attention? Then again, with the show you gave them I'm sure they've already got their eyes locked on us." Her demeanor was a playful tease, cocking one eyebrow to portray her amusement at the notion of the knights' displeasure. There had to be one nearby. Probably off in some corner practically steaming over a Myrian showing up one of their squires. Oops. "May I ask whom I am addressing? Forgive my manners; too long from the jungle, I suppose..." She sure as hell could understand that. The things she'd do even catch a glimpse of the basin that flooded Falyndar seasonally.... "Already forgiven. Kaie of the Cutthroat Shadows. Now what should I call the son of Myri who's so far from home?" She flashed another bright smile that was a rare occurrence for any outsider to receive. His suture seemed practiced. Experienced even. Whoever potential employers around he was trying to attract would be forced to take such an advantage into consideration. It was probably only a matter of time anyway. Who would be stupid enough to pass up on such an excellent investment?

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[Razkar]

"Already forgiven. Kaie of the Cutthroat Shadows. Now what should I call the son of Myri who's so far from home?"

"Razkar of the... ngggh... Shorn Skulls..."

It sounds so easy, to say that you'll stitch your own wounds. Hey, anyone can sew, right? How hard can it be to apply that to your own flesh? I mean, it's only a little needle and how painful can that be, right?

Very petching painful. Especially when you're petching tired as it is and out of petching practice...

Razkar grunted through his introduction as he gritted his teeth and looped around his thread yet again. His fingers didn't shake anymore, but only because the pain had numbed him. The first gash was nearly done... and Goddess, but that would be a fucking uneven scar. He should have found a healer, but why waste the money?

More than that, you're putting on a show, right? So hide the pain and be the self-repairing Myrian. The barbarians will like that...

"Shyke," he cursed to himself, happy at least that one of his own kind could hear his frustration without his facade being ruined, "Really should have learned to do this better at the Training Yards, eh?"

He chuckled through the sweat on his face and kept working, talking steadily and pausing at odd moments, biting back pain, occasionally replacing needle with wet towel to clean or soak.

"My woman? Heh... no, actually she's more the scholar. Don't get me wrong, bloody demon with a two-bladed knife, but she's got more going on up here-" he said with some pride and self-deprecation, tapping his head "-than I do in my hands. She's out the jungle, too. Off tracking down knowledge in the barbarian lands. Zeltiva, I think she said she went to."

Second gash done, and his fang-liked teeth, sharpened into needle points by his file, bit through the thread. One left... well, one on his shoulder. The larger one on his chest would be... more annoying.

"I am on Pilgrimage."

He spoke simply, as if that one word explained everything. To a Myrian, however, it did, antiquated and unused though that tradition was. In the past, before the Great Disaster that shook the world, Myrians in groups from fangs to whole clans swarmed from the jungles into the outside world, rampaging across the barbarian lands in Myri's name. War and battle were their only aims, claiming souls for their Goddess-Queen and glorying her name. She was the deity of both, after all, and they honored both her and the nations they invaded by gifting them with her power.

In blood. In death. In iron and flame.

"I know what you're thinking," he said with a grunt, beginning the last stitch, pulling the thread tight as he looped around. Four stitches for each gash seemed to be doing the trick. "Something of an outdated notion, hmm? Few of our people do such a thing nowadays. Falyndar is enough of a challenge... or it has been."

Razkar's eyes flickered up, a glimmer of suspicion and judgement in them.

"I take it you were not present during the Djed Storm?"

[Sigrun Dominic]

"Enemy not always wait for fight to fight you. Enemy not always on battle field or bang chest and challenge. Enemy will attack when you turn back. When he smile at you and say he is friend. Always keep eye open, mistress..." Sigrun lost her guard, finding herself vulnerable once more under the clutches of the warrior. He had swiftly brought her into a dangerous situation without so much as an effort on his part. The admiration that flooded the young blonde's eyes was unmistakable. Razkar relinquished her with a lopsided smile on his face, striding backwards with a short bow. Sigrun returned the smile with an elated grin, nodding in response to his respectful gesture. The warrior may have looked like a savage, but he appeared to have the courtesy of a gentleman. It was quite rare and refreshing. "... World is full of men like me. If you get chance, be as cold and bad and forget honor for fight." The young blonde nodded. She wasn't one to play nice under ordinary circumstances, but found it extremely hard to fight dirty around people she respected, such as the tattooed warrior. "Shyke will only get Mistress Sigrun killed." The young blonde exhaled sharply, amused. She nonetheless nodded with approval. "I hope I see you again." "And I you," she responded with another respectful nod, "you are a brilliant teacher." She watched casually as Razkar turned around and made his way towards a certain woman leaning by the wall. Sigrun recognized her from before, remembering her to have looked so fierce and intimidating, just as Razkar did when she'd first laid eyes on him. She was wary to approach the pair as they began to converse and make their way over to the nearby wash basins and benches, but decided to do so nonetheless. "Shykes!" The young blonde fervently spat out the curse as she attempted to make use of her muscles to rise up from the sandy floor. It was not a good idea to sit down. Hissing, she gently hoisted herself off of the ground and dusted off the pale granules that stuck to her body with a snarling wince. Her everything was hurting. Her kneecap ached the most of all. Sigrun wobbled over to the benches until she was close enough to hear the pair of tattooed warriors speaking in a foreign language, possibly their native one. Feeling rather awkward about sticking around and not being able to understand what they were saying, she gave them a weak smile and grabbed herself a towel, crouching over a bench as she dampened the cloth and brought it to her body. Ouch. Another bad idea. The young blonde winced as the pressure she placed upon her sore muscles and fresh cuts made them ache all the more. After wiping her face and cleaning most of her body, she glanced down at her towel and frowned at the amount of sand, sweat, and small traces of blood. Disgusted, she looked up and remembered Kisetukai, whose state was unknown to her. Turning towards the wall where she last saw him, she took in the sight of him struggling with his horse, eventually slumping down to the floor once more in defeat. Pity washed over her, her eyes lingering over the many serious cuts and bruises that plagued his skin. After another quick wipedown, the young blonde sighed and picked up a fresh towel and basin of water, eyeing the two chattering warriors with an amused smile and a glint in her eye. "Love your enemies," she raised her eyebrows comically at the pair, shrugging as she turned around and wobbled over to the defeated squire. She had half a mind to disregard the boy and simply sit with the warriors, as it would be a great opportunity to learn about a culture and a race that she had never seen before. However, compassion had won over by a landslide. Each and every step was an effort on Sigrun's part; she struggled to focus her mind on her destination, and not the sharp aches and pains that shot through her body with each and every sudden movement. She furrowed her brows and bit her lip, her grip on the towel and filled washbasin tightening as she struggled to keep her breathing calm. "Hey," the young blonde grunted nonchalantly, assuming a deadpanned expression as she hovered over the dark-skinned young man. Up close, it was clear that her hands were shaking from the weight of the wash basin. "You may either refuse help or accept it," she gently crouched down beside the squire and set the washbasin on the floor next to him, throwing the towel into the water, "whatever you choose to do, it won't change anything." And by anything, she meant the result of the duel. She wondered though, if the squire would take it in a different way. Sigrun took out the cloth from the basin and squeezed out the excess water before she gently dabbed it onto his face, her mouth quivering at the sight of all the blood and bruised skin. It was nowhere near the pain and injuries that she was experiencing, and it was thankfully distracting her from her own pains. "I figure you broke something," she mumbled, eyeing his stomach warily, "but I'm no healer, so I don't know." "You put up a good fight out there." The words came out a little forced, a little bit more out of common courtesy rather than genuine kindness.

[Kisetukai]

K kept squeezing his hand into a fist, his left hand, the one he was staring at.  His left hand was laying flat on the ground, the back of his hand on the warm grit sizzling, he was angry. He wasn't angry at Razkar, or even the crowd who used him as some sort of gambling dog, he was mad at himself. How the hell could he lose? He didn't just lose, he loss to an outsider, someone who had no business being here. Razkar... What kind of name was that anyway? What kind of name was-...

His head didn't move, but his eyes glanced up to observe feet, small boots coming to him. He couldn't tell who's feet it was, nor did he care, it was probably another common-.. Another person coming to greet him. Were they coming to say hi, what happened? Were they coming to say that it was ok? He didn't need anybody comforting him, because he didn't want anyone comforting him, he was just another... Loser. He was a sore loser. He couldn't stand defeat, and now he just had a reason to hate more things in life. Gods, why did it all have to be so confusing?

He was ready to leave when he finally decided to lift his head, looking up to see none other than the flower girl, carrying some sort of container. Her voice snapped him out of his self rage for a bit, as he looked at her with a bland face of distress. He wanted to get up and walk away, but his body wouldn't let him, and Sigrun was the second to last person he wanted to see. The first was himself.

"You may either refuse help or accept it," she gently crouched down beside the squire and set the washbasin on the floor next to him, throwing the towel into the water, "whatever you choose to do, it won't change anything."

He looked at her when she spoke, then quickly lowering his gaze back to the floor. Not wanting to see her face, look her in the eye, or talk to anybody at the moment... He spoke to her. "Dom I... No, Sigrun I don't need any help, just leave me-" He grew silent as Sigrun quickly began to clean him, his face, like he didn't have a say in the matter. His blood boiled at the thought, the thought of being.. Cared for. Didn't she hate him? Didn't she grow furious about the little demonstration he gave? So why the hell was she caring for him?! It wasn't fair, it wasn't how it was supposed to be...

When she addressed him once more, it was about his body, apparently she thought he had broke something. She was correct, actually he broke more than something, but he wasn't about to let her know that. He actually liked her, well used to anyway, and for some strange reason he wanted to impress her. But not anymore, not now after this, he didn't want anything to do with her. But she was just being plain nice though, caring and compassionate, and it devastated him. 

"I'm fine, it's just a couple of scratches ya know?" He added in quickly, although he was a bit angry he knew that sound in her voice. He had heard it before and hated hearing it everytime. The waHey she sounded shock to be so close to battle wounds, it made him mad just to hear it. Yet now he didn't know what to expect, and then she let go her last comment about the fight, this truly infuriated him. Not because she said it but because he thought about the fight again.

"Sigrun incase you didn't see it... I loss. There was nothing good about that fight. As a future knight I have...-" His eyes opened up widely, coughing up enough blood in his mouth to make it impossible to talk. Turning his head quickly, he let out the river of red liquid from his mouth, hoping that Sigrun wouldn't notice. Slyly returning his head to face forward, he looked directly forward, admiring the ground he just fought on as an imaginary replay of his battle played in front of him. He was so angry at himself, he would continue to think about this for a while. "Why are you helping me? Don't you hate me?" His voice was low a calm, more that she would have to listen closely if she wanted to understand what he was saying. "I hope you know..." Letting out another series of coughs, quickly fanned his hand, hitting the wall. His goal was to knock away her hand, stopping her from her goals of helping him, he wanted to be clear. "If you find a maned wolf in the woods, you do not help it... You don't feed it water... You don't free it from it's trap. You just leave it alone so that it may get stronger." He stayed looking forward, his voice cold and unforgiving, he hoped she could understand every word he spat out. "I don't need your pity, your compassion, your sympathy... I need you to respect me enough to leave me alone."

He wanted to be alone.

[Sigrun Dominic]

"Dom I... No, Sigrun I don't need any help, just leave me-" "Dominic," she responded casually. His words did nothing to dissuade her. Sigrun focused on the young man's bruised cheek, gently dabbing the cold piece of damp cloth on his swollen, purpleish skin. Once she felt she'd clean enough, she washed the dirt and sweat off of the towel into the basin, squeezing out the excess fluids once more before making quick work of his collarbone and shoulders. She could sense his distaste, his dislike of her caring for him. Sigrun liked it just as much as she didn't; she just felt compelled to help. Her mind quickly traveled back into time, when the loudmouthed squire had insulted commoners and generally disrespected the people surrounding the pits with his tactlessness. Her hand squeezed the wet cloth tightly, her eyes flashing with anger as she watched droplets of water travel down Kise's bare chest. "I'm fine, it's just a couple of scratches ya know?" "Scratches?" she smirked, shaking her head, "I wouldn't say scratches, now." "Sigrun in case you didn't see it... I loss. There was nothing good about that fight. As a future knight I have...-" The squire cut himself off as he struggled with something in his throat, eventually coughing up a thin stream of blood. Sigrun's eyes darkened at the sight, and frowned as he turned his face away in an attempt to hide it. She carelessly took his chin and turned it to face her, quickly wiping away the red rivulets that dribbled his chin. "It was good because you lost," she thought humorously, a smile gracing her lips in the process. She wanted to say something offensive about his mention of becoming a future knight, but decided against it; the guy was bruised enough as it was. It was better to be silent, for now. "Why are you helping me? Don't you hate me?" Kise's voice was steady and soft, a bit different from how he'd been speaking earlier. Sigrun merely gave him a shrug, slowly dragging the cloth towel down to the lower portions of his torso. "I hope you know..." She jerked her hand away just as he rose his up in the air, swatting at the space in front of her, only for his knuckles to land on the wall behind him. Sigrun winced. "If you find a maned wolf in the woods, you do not help it... You don't feed it water... You don't free it from it's trap. You just leave it alone so that it may get stronger," he snapped. Sigrun scowled. It was no longer better to be silent. It seemed that not even a hearty beating from a respectable warrior could strip this man of his arrogance and unpleasantness. "I don't need your pity, your compassion, your sympathy... I need you to respect me enough to leave me alone." "From the attitude that you displayed for the masses to see, earlier, Kisetukai, you don't deserve respect." The young blonde disregarded the pain that shot through her body as she quickly rose up and harshly threw the dirty towel onto the squire's head. "Only an ignorant weakling cannot understand that accepting the help of others does not affect their recovery negatively," glaring down at him, she willed herself not to inflict any more damage on his already battered body, "independence is not always a strength." "Trapped, abandoned wolves won't grow stronger by themselves, they weaken and die." Sigrun's blood was boiling, her cheeks flushing with frustration as she found herself unable to control her rage any longer. She simply had no patience for people of his kind. "You don't deserve to be a Syliran Knight. At the very least, not until you fix your act up!" Her anger getting the better of her, Sigrun spat at the ground in front of the squire and grimaced as she kicked the washbasin over to the side, its contents spilling over Kise's lap. "You should be aware of the fact that they don't tolerate arrogant, pompous fools such as yourself!" Fuming, the young blonde took swift steps backwards, glaring daggers at his slumped form before pivoting her foot and turning around. He was a disgraceful human being, one that she could no longer find the patience to interact with. "And I thought you were different," she muttered sadly, her eyes revealing her disappointment as she turned away from him. The young blonde quickly walked over to the nearest exit, wincing as she struggled to pretend that her aches and pains were not there. A pair of young commoners wielding similar swords walked past her just as she made her way out of the pits. "Hey, we saw you out there, nice job," one of them called out. "Yeah, you put up a good fight," the scruffier one of the two added, "should show us some of your moves some other time." Sigrun paused and turned towards them, smiling despite herself. "You two training for something?" "Yeah," the younger one of the two responded meekly. "Well then, good luck," she grinned, nodding towards them as she went on her way, "and don't turn out like that guy." The pair of young men exchanged amused, knowing glances, nodding towards Sigrun before heading into the pits. The crowds of people that greeted the young blonde was an odd comfort. Sigrun sighed with relief as she lost herself once more in the masses, excited to tend to herself and rest back at her apartment. However, her first thought was to head off and purchase a nice pair of leather gauntlets.

[Kisetukai]

A normal person would've probably regretted what was said to the girl right after saying it, they would've probably felt the horrible from the guilt practically oozing from their own box of self arrogance, but that wasn't K. K was a man of dignity, upmost dignity at that, and he never thought twice about the words that flew out of his mouth. Because he never thought once about them. His words came out like an army, shooting off vicious arrows aimed at her so called "heart". He wanted to break her down, show her that he didn't need compassion, show her that he didn't really didn't care about how she felt about him. She might have came over with a warm heart, but he was going to send her away with a broken one, and if not that, then one that would bark like a dog when looking at him.

Then the unexpected happened, she exploded, and the saying always came back. Ivak have no wrath... It was a flurry and barrage of insults, her own personal witty comments, and the surprising spit and kick. It only lasted so long but it felt like an eternity, although K never looked her in the eyes, he listened to every word that woman spoke. He enjoyed it all, every little tick of it was something he loved, just because of what exactly it was. Someone yelling at him, someone angry and disappointed in him, someone who... Believed in him? The last comment she gave, about thinking he was different, it destroyed him. It utterly destroyed him that someone thought he was not what he was. The thing was he had heard the phrase before, from a multitude of women, some older some younger. But the very fact was who had just said it, just when he was busy telling himself that he didn't care what her multitude of actions where, she went and uttered some shyke like that.

He watched as she walked away, it seemed like she had just told him off as she strutted away. His hand flew out and his mouth opened, as if he was just about to stop her, but nothing came out. Moments later she was gone, and he was left to self wallow some more. He threw his head back, slamming it on the wall as he absorbed more pain. He let out another grunt, except this one was caused by aggravation. Sigr-... Dom had messed up his mindset. She was good at that. He decided that it was no good to stay here, no good to sit and sulk in the battlefields, he knew he had to get up. Tossing the towel aside, he placed his hands overhead on the wall, pushing himself up. His skin and body instantly reacted, as if he broke something that was binding him to the wall, his back stinging with pain. 

He rose to his feet effortlessly, and for some reason, his body wasn't as weak. Perhaps sitting and talking wasn't so bad, perhaps getting an outdoor bath from a woman actually helped a bit, somehow she helped. He had a bit of his energy back, yes, but that didn't excuse the vicious body injuries he suffered. He was still hurt, he still limped, but he definitely wasn't going to fall over anymore. Whistling once more, his horse trotted over, and he quickly mounted lazily. His body was so bruised he couldn't even sit in the elegant position he loved, he couldn't only sit in a slump, his body sort of laying on the horse's back. The horse, used to how the normal operations carried out, began to trot in place for a fancy fast take off. "Hey! Tch! Speed... Let's just go slow today ok buddy?" K said softy in a low voice, the horse slumping a bit and following orders. He would leave in a slowly clot, exiting the nearest exit and not looking back, not even listening to the people disappointing chatter.

Although he knew this wasn't over. He would definitely retaliate. To all situations. For now he just wanted to go sleep an rest, he was pretty sure some young doe squire would tend to his wounds, as his idol Orion would call them.

"Dammit... I'm gonna have to go get some flowers..." He said softly to his horse, rubbing it's mane. "Now, what type was it that day again?"

[Kaie]

Kaie

She watched him suture himself like a child trying to repair a tear in a favored doll. A ghost of a smile on her lips, seeing him loop and tie each section of thread to his bare skin. It was the bloody curse of being the warrior, really. Always patching wounds up. She didn't hate it completely though when it was herself in his position. Patching herself up, staring down growling at opened wounds, forced her to see her mistakes. It was like a sick sort of deterrent and a motivation to improve. To keep precious Myrian wine from dripping off its basin and into the ground. "Pleasure to finally find another Myrian, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls." Bold eyes continued to watch his work. She surely didn't envy him. Suturing was a nasty thing to tackle. Sometimes she wondered if she preferred feeling the initial gashing or the slow pull of an untrained needle. "My woman? Heh... no, actually she's more the scholar. Don't get me wrong, bloody demon with a two-bladed knife, but she's got more going on up here-than I do in my hands. She's out the jungle, too. Off tracking down knowledge in the barbarian lands. Zeltiva, I think she said she went to." A scholar Myrian woman. What an amusing idea. Kaie herself couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea of preferring barbarian teachings over the training yard. Was there really anything more satisfying than becoming a lethal warrior? A proud soldier to Myri's army? She had heard some stories about Zeltiva though. That it was a place for such people. Scholars. What did they call the special school over there again? A university. Yes, that was it. Some massive region dedicated to education in just about everything imaginable. If one sought out knowledge, that's the place they'd go. Then something occurred to her. His woman in Zeltiva? Her brown eyes flickered to his horse, a beast she knew well from Cyphrus. She didn't know any better place to purchase one. This Razkar of the Shorn Skulls must've come from the west. By the way he said "I think," Kaie could only assume they had been separated for some time. "Your woman. You say that like she's been gone for some time. You must miss her terribly. Is that why you're travelling through here?" She asked cocking her head slightly like a curious canine. "I am on Pilgrimage." Her gentle smile widened some after hearing the old tradition. When Myri directed this man her way, she most definitely sent the classic epitome of what her people were. As much as everyone around her had enthused about slitting barbarian throats, not many really left Falyndar. It was a special occasion to see one who actually made it this far. "I know what you're thinking. Something of an outdated notion, hmm? Few of our people do such a thing nowadays. Falyndar is enough of a challenge... or it has been." Kaie laughed softly and nodded her agreement. He had literally read her mind. Everyone seemed too preoccupied now. Or at least they did last time she was there. Always having something to do. The jungle never slept, and the people never slowed down. It was the way of life. Sometimes it seemed like Taloba was the center of the world. Like everything outside of it stood still in its insignificance. In its inferiority. "I take it you were not present during the Djed Storm?" Her entire caravan of thought came to an abrupt halt. Carriages smashing into the ones ahead of them, tipping over with snapped wheels and ineffective drivers. Her previous thoughts were annihilated in the wake of that single question. Kaie's smile vanished and was replaced by a grim expression. Hollow even. His judgmental dark eyes bore into her as if they were reading her very soul. In truth, they probably were. Kaie knew what the Djed storm was. She saw the chaos in Syliras. The screams. The pounding fists on the city's locked gates. The tightly packed bodies underground and the roar of the riots that came later. As traumatizing as braving such a wretched situation alone was, coming up from the bunkers to see the world was worse. Every window was shattered, buildings collapsed, rubble and debris everywhere. It was never the despair of the Sylirans that tore her still beating heart from her chest like some ancient sacrifice. What laid her body on the killing altar was the realization Taloba must've been hit too. How many longhouses were destroyed? How much of her beloved jungle was ravaged? Staring at the barbarian rubble, where grandeur buildings once stood tall above the crowds; she thought only of home. As the screams of people rang through the pummeled areas, calling the names of lost loved ones, Kaie wished she could do the same. If by the power of Myri her voice could carry across the world, she would've yelled until her lungs could take no more. Just because there was an incredibly meager chance someone might call back. "Yes. I've been....Stuck. Here. For two years." The first sentence was shaky at first, but as she progressed she evened it out better than an Isurian pounding on steel. Whatever softened look to her he saw in that moment of sheer agony disappeared. Eyes returned his steady glare, unwilling to break contact and reveal even a bit of vulnerability. She could not be seen as weak. Not to the barbarians. Especially not to her own. "You were there. You saw. Didn't you?" Kaie's confident voice returned to her relatively quickly, despite her moment of inner turmoil. Just as his facade for the audience was one of a mighty warrior fit for the job, hardly moved by pain or inconvenience of injury; hers was one of unshattered mental toughness. She never seemed to lose that feeling of the need to prove herself. Not even in the moments she already had. Yet her question to Razkar wasn't cruel or intrusive really. Through her confidence there was sympathy and a dreaded curiosity. She knew the Djed Storm spared no one. The Myrian woman knew he had seen horrible things.

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